


Free Flow

by strokeof_genie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fingering, M/M, Prostate Milking, Rimming, Teen Wolf kink meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:57:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strokeof_genie/pseuds/strokeof_genie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: Derek gives Stiles multiple orgasms from just rimming, just fingering, the whole works. Preferably with Stiles passing out, then coming to to Derek being gentle and sweet :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free Flow

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [Derek gives Stiles multiple orgasms from just rimming, just fingering, the whole works. Preferably with Stiles passing out, then coming to to Derek being gentle and sweet :D](http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/784.html?thread=80912#t80912)
> 
> I must also admit that I was a little inspired by [this picture](http://i.imgur.com/Ce0nQ.jpg) from Dylan O'Brien's Troix photoshoot. Unf.

Derek kept threatening him, but usually he never went through with any of his threats - ripping Stiles throat out, for example - so Stiles didn't take him seriously this time. "One day," Derek had said, low and tense, his voice a needful growl, "I'm going to stay here and do this all - damn - day." Each word was punctuated by a thrust of Derek's fingers deep into Stiles' ass, and it was _so good_ that it made Stiles arch with it, wanting more. And that was why Stiles found it so baffling about Derek just wanting finger-fuck him, because Derek's cock was kind of a miracle.

"Yeah, whatever, just fuck me," Stiles said, and Derek pressed hard against his prostate in return, holding his fingers against it, a steady firm pleasure rolling through Stiles. "God, okay, please fuck me, get in me please, God Derek I'm so - ah," Stiles said, wincing as Derek pulled his fingers out. "Please," Stiles whined high in his throat, baring it, legs spread to accommodate Derek as he shifted up and pressed his cock in. "God, yes," Stiles said, the burn so satisfying, the stretch, the way Derek got _so deep_ and pressed in so easily - he had all he wanted right here with this.

\---

So Stiles never expects the day to come that Derek will actually refuse to fuck him, or ignore all of Stiles' pleas, but it happens. "Please, Derek, please," Stiles says, because he likes to talk and Derek likes it when he begs. "I want you, need it, please," he talks and talks while Derek fingers him, telling him every single thought that goes through his mind. How much he wants Derek, how good he feels, how it's kind of gross to have to clean Derek's come off of him when Derek decides he likes to see the hot white spatter across Stiles but he still gets off on it, and about how much he likes Derek's dick in him.

"God, you never shut up," Derek's voice is strained, brittle, like his control is fraying and all Stiles has to do is talk to break it. Stiles takes a moment to breathe in deep, because Derek's going so slowly, only two fingers into Stiles and it's been _hours_. "It has not," Derek says, and Stiles didn't notice that he had said that aloud. "You say everything out loud when I get inside you," Derek reminds him, and coming from him, it sounds like it's the greatest compliment he's ever received. Stiles is never shy about telling Derek exactly what he thinks of him, in and out of bed. He’s pretty sure he’s told Derek that his cock is a miracle, before.

"You don't want me to shut up," Stiles says, his breath hitching as Derek's fingers curl a little, not searching for his prostate at all, just teasing inside of him. "Derek, Derek, please I just want - yes that's it right there," Stiles says, squirming on Derek's fingers as they press rhythmically into him. "More, I want more, c'mon Derek you know you want more," Stiles urges, spreading his legs a little wider, trying to hook his knees around Derek, lock his ankles together, draw him in.

Derek's fingers pull out gently and Stiles feels a rush of victory. "I do," Derek agrees, and lifts him suddenly. Stiles flails as he's curled, brought to rest on Derek's thighs, legs up over Derek's shoulders. Stiles rests them there until he's pushed off and his legs are spread, exposed wholly for Derek. "Later, probably, if we get to it today," Derek's _teasing_ him, and Stiles is tempted to kick him in the head, but his thighs are held firm.

"Derek, c'mon man, just do something!" Stiles tests Derek's hold, flexing his legs and trying to arch his back far enough to roll backwards, but Derek's got him tight. He can feel Derek's cock, big and heavy and so hard, pressed against his back. It makes him still, the hot line of it twitching, and Stiles stops struggling to arch his neck and look up at Derek. What does Derek _want_ , and will he do something soon?

"Yeah," he sees Derek mutter absentmindedly, feels it, and then Derek continues, "I'm going to." He lifts Stiles up higher, even, so that Stiles has a twinge as he's up on his elbows, taking some weight off his shoulders, but it's not uncomfortable so much as startling. And then Derek licks him, a smooth wet _hot_ stripe right up Stiles’ ass crack, and oh - Stiles can’t - he’s never -

“Good,” Stiles manages, and and he feels Derek laugh, feels his breath huff out against Stiles’ hole before he’s licking again, hard, tongue flat and teasing the way it presses on him but not _in him_. It feels odd, startling, and amazing in a completely foreign way. He wants _more_.

“Speechless?” Derek asks, and his teasing tone makes Stiles indignant. His actions, the fact that he’s stopping to talk, for fuck’s sake, make Stiles wriggle again to try and knee him.

“Stop talking,” Stiles says. “Please, for the love of God, just stop talking and start - oh,” Stiles groans, because the hands on his thighs flex as Derek leans back down, licking against him, the tip of his tongue trying to slide in. “Oh God oh God oh please Derek,” Stiles is babbling, he knows, but Derek’s tongue is licking into his ass, and it feels like it should _never end_.

Derek listens to him, though, and doesn’t comment on his incoherency or the fact that pre-come is already dripping from Stiles’ cock onto his chest. Stiles knows he knows, he can feel Derek’s hands squeezing his thighs like they always do when Stiles gets close and Derek can _smell_ it. It only makes Derek work harder, and Stiles is so very happy about that, because Derek’s tonguing him, trying to get the tip in, and God.

Werewolf strength everywhere, of course, but Stiles knows that Derek’s tongue licking inside of him - deep and then _deeper_ \- is doing things a normal person couldn’t. His mouth is flat against Stiles’ ass, giving him the dirtiest, wettest openmouth kiss, tongue licking inside of him in curls and flexes. Stiles is shaking, from his shoulders to where his feet hang uselessly behind Derek, and Derek is just fucking him with his tongue like he wants to go on forever.

Stiles wouldn’t mind that, really, but his cock is aching and his shoulders are straining, and he wants to come. “Please, Derek, please, I need to come, I - hnng,” Stiles says as one of Derek’s hands drop his thigh. Stiles lets it fall, curving around Derek’s side, and arches up into Derek’s mouth as he suddenly fondles Stiles’ balls. It’s not enough to make Stiles come, but the finger that sneaks into his ass along with Derek’s tongue does. It’s a blur, the lightning-fast pleasure of Derek’s finger pressing deep into him next to the wriggling of his tongue, firmly stroking Stiles’ prostate.

Stiles bucks, his body shaking harder, convulsing under Derek’s mouth. Stiles can’t breath for a moment, his entire body tense, the feeling of Derek still moving in him sharper, clearer, as his cock jerks and he’s coming without being touched. Pleasure is quaking his body, wracking it and Stiles can hear himself screaming but he doesn’t care.

The pleasure doesn’t stop, it doesn’t stop, _it doesn’t stop_ , God. Derek slides his tongue out and Stiles has never heard the sound he makes. It’s a growl, and a groan, and it’s so needy and longing that Stiles tries to answer, saying “Derek, Derek, please,” over and over again. Derek’s tongue is replaced by another finger, and then he’s just licking around them, dipping his tongue in and out. Stiles is still blissfully high on his orgasm, Derek’s fingers curling into his prostate in desperate motions, like Stiles’ pleasure will get Derek off too.

It won’t, but Derek is suddenly the most generous person Stiles’ knows. Each press of Derek’s fingers makes it last longer, each time his tongue presses in for a faint stretch Stiles gets a little bit - more. More pleasure, louder, weaker with how long he’s going to come. His cock stopped pulsing except for a faint spurt occasionally, but the way Derek’s working him, getting another finger inside and ruthlessly deep, curling and stroking. He can’t take much more, humans aren’t meant for it.

“I may pass out,” Stiles warns, his voice rough and low from the screams and shouts Derek’s fingers pushed out of him. Immediately Derek stills, and Stiles whines high in his throat as Derek pulls out, his fingers leaving Stiles’ ass empty. “But that was only encouragement,” Stiles tries to protest, though he does breath easier as Derek shifts him, laying him down flat on his back. He moves his legs, spreading them wider so Derek can get in between, wondering a little at his complete lack of self-consciousness around the man.

Maybe when a guy has been thoroughly enjoying your ass with his tongue, self-consciousness seems stupid. “Comfortable?” Derek asks, but he doesn’t give Stiles a chance to answer before he’s flipping Stiles over, pressing him flat to the mattress, spreading his ass cheeks before he just goes for it again, tonguing Stiles’ hole.

“Oh my God, you are the greatest person to ever live,” Stiles says fervently, knowing that it’s true with all of his heart. Derek laughs into him, but Stiles means it, because Derek’s tongue is shoved in at the thickest part that can go into Stiles. “So, so good, Derek, please,” Stiles says, instinctively begging because it’s for Derek and Derek likes it, but he has everything he needs right here, there's no need to beg.

Derek loves to prove him wrong, though, because he palms Stiles’ ass further apart before sliding two fingers in, his tongue out to lick around them and oh God, Stiles knows that Derek is tasting where they meet, where Stiles ends and Derek begins. The thought makes Stiles a little envious, and a little grossed out, and so turned on that he can’t help but clench around Derek’s fingers and try to rock back. He’s held firm against the bed with Derek’s hands pressing him down and spreading him, and his dick is twitching from the rubbing against his sheets, and the way Derek is teasing another orgasm into existence. Stiles can feel the beginnings of it low in his belly, the fire and burn spreading, his dick stiffening and not ready to come yet.

It’s a constant pleasant ache inside him that he just wants fulfilled, burying his face in his arms and moaning, tired and blissed out. Derek’s tongue presses in between his fingers, or maybe that’s a third finger, Stiles isn’t sure. But the burn is perfect, it’s the distraction he needs from being flung into another orgasm so quickly it might be painful.

He’s not entirely sure that the first one ended, because the near-constant pressure against his prostate and the pleasure he’s felt since Derek brought him off has never truly gone. Derek is a beast, literally and figuratively, and it’s impossible that this could happen. Humans aren’t meant to live through this sort of pleasure.

“Derek, please, please, just - God, not that,” Stiles says, breathless and laughing as Derek growls against his ass and curls his fingers hard, stroking Stiles’ prostate. Derek is going to make him come as many times as it’s humanly possible for a - well, a human to come.

Stiles’ cock twitches, hard and sensitive, and it’s all over when Derek presses a little harder into him, his fourth finger stretching Stiles. His body arches as bright hot washes through him, so sudden and jarring and _good_ it’s painful. It’s too soon, but he’s shaking under Derek, his dick barely spurting. It doesn’t matter though, because Derek’s fingers press hard, almost too hard into his prostate, and Stiles’ vision whites out.

He’s drifting on lingering pleasure when he can see again, on his back, and shifts a little. “Derek,” Stiles whines, because he’s pressed firmly back to the bed. Derek’s leaning over him, his head bent down to lick up Stiles’ come, and Stiles is honestly torn, now, because he can’t decide if Derek’s cock, or Derek’s tongue provides more miracles. Maybe it’s just Derek.

“Hush,” Derek says from somewhere near his navel, and Stiles relaxes, stretching a little. Stiles wonders if Derek is still hard, and despite the workout he’s had, he hopes that Derek is.


End file.
